


Sad, Beautiful, Tragic

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, post 3x23, really short, tw spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I just wanted to see you live happily until you can't pick up your bow anymore and until you start telling the children of your children the myths about werewolves and werewolf hunters and banshees,” he said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad, Beautiful, Tragic

**Author's Note:**

> –I wrote most of this at 3am, and it's unbeta'd so I hope it still makes sense.  
> –I guess this is a really short one-shot  
> -Fic title is from Taylor Swift's song of the same name.  
> -I hope you enjoy :)

_“It's okay,” Allison breathed, voice tainted with honesty, “It's perfect.”_

_She couldn't feel the hole in her stomach anymore. “I'm in the arms of my first love,” Allison forced out, “The first person I ever loved, the person I'll always love.”_

_“I love--” She felt the life fading out of her, and Allison made sure she said it out loud-- “I love you, Scott... Scott McCall.”_

_Then, she remembered._ The silver arrowheads. _One of them had killed an Oni. “You have to tell my dad...” she told Scott. He couldn't do anything but nod._

_“Tell him--”_

_The last thing she saw was a tear escaping Scott's eye._

* * *

Allison woke up from her sleep. _It was just a dream,_ she thought, grateful.

She checked her phone and it shined _8:38_. Allison would have been frantic, but it was Saturday, and the 36 new texts on her phone say that something's been going on.

Lydia: _I miss you already, Allison._  
Lydia: _I wish you never left._  
Scott: _I'm sorry, for not being there in time, for not protecting you. I love you._  
Lydia: _I should have tried harder. I'm sorry. I should have stopped you._  
Scott: _I miss you. Nothing's been the same since you left. I wish you never did._

 _But I never even left,_ Allison thought, dazed, _Unless..._

No. It couldn't be true-- it was only a dream.

Instead of going back to sleep, she decided to visit her mom in the graveyard. Allison doesn't like doing it, but something told her she should. her friends were probably still dozing, and her dad wasn't at home, anyway. But what welcomed her in the graveyard was not what she expected.

There was a small clump of people mourning someone, and group was near where her mother lies. She spotted a head of strawberry-blonde hair, and Allison knew it was Lydia. She was crying, hugging someone. Scott, perhaps? 

Allison approached them, and saw that it _was_ Scott. The memory of the dream she had resurfaced, and she pushed the thought back right away.

“Lydia?” she asked her best friend. No response.

“Scott? What happened?” she said, tapping him on the shoulder. 

They weren't answering her and kept ignoring Allison. She proceeded to look for her dad, and found him in front of the crowd. “Dad? What's wrong? Who...”

Allison trailed off from her words as she saw the body in the coffin.

It was her.

* * *

“Hey, Allison,” Scott said, “How are you doing? I hope you're fine. And I hope you can listen.”

“School was tough this week. We had a big test in Chem yesterday, and I forgot my pen! Funny how the tables have turned. Remember your first day? Sadly, you weren't there to lend me a pen. It's alright, I got Stiles's halfway through the exam when he finished. And don't worry, I turned in your History essay last Tuesday. The one you finished...” _the night you died._

Allison wanted to tell Scott to go spend his Friday night somewhere else-- at Stiles's house, and finally watch Star Wars; at Derek's loft, and train, or maybe just get some sleep. But she couldn't. She couldn't tell him that it's going to be okay. She couldn't tell him that she still _is_ listening to him, sitting by her grave. She couldn't tell him that she was right there, settled beside him.

“Allison, I miss you. Lydia does, too. She raided your closet for clothes, by the way. She said she hopes it's okay with you," he chuckled, “Stiles says he's sorry. I told him it's not his fault. He doesn't want to believe it.”

“The rest of the pack's doing fine, I guess. Your dad said that he and Isaac would be going to France for a while,” he said. Allison wasn't shocked by this-- her dad didn't have any business in Beacon Hills anymore, anyway. But Isaac coming with her father _did_ puzzle her. “He said he'd probably come back. Check on the pack sometimes,” he paused, “I'm really sorry, you know. About what happened. If I had been there, fighting, I could have... I could have saved you,” 

“It made me really, really upset. I think you know that. I read once that even until someone's death, people are truly selfish. You see people in funerals crying because they lost a loved one. You see some of them nearly fainting because of the fact that they'll never see a friend or a relative alive and happy and that they'll never get a smile or a 'hello' from them for the remainder of their lives. Some are even in hysterics,” he took a deep breath, “I-- I didn't cry because I lost you. I cried because of the life you'll never get the chance to live. I don't care if we don't end up together anymore-- screw fate and all that garbage. I just wanted to see you live happily until you can't pick up your bow anymore and until you start telling the children of your children the myths about werewolves and werewolf hunters and banshees,”

“Don't worry about that, though-- I'll make sure I tell the story of a huntress who once lived to hunt those who hunted them, but led soldiers to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You're not one who's easily forgotten; you _will_ be remembered. I'll point out one of the constellations in the stars somehow-- the hunter one I never seem to catch at night and see-- and tell that it's the brave huntress,” he paused, “You were only seventeen, Allison. You didn't deserve any of that. I'm sorry.”

At this point, Allison was already in tears herself. She knew Scott loved her (maybe he still does) (and she loves him as well) but what he just said erased any lingering trace of doubt-- if there was even any in the first place. 

What he said struck her, and made her think of what _could have_ been. She saw the whole pack present in their graduation, everyone alive and glad and just happy to be there. She saw sleepless nights in college and cramming for tons of tests and trying to finish pages and pages of essays. She saw growing old with the pack, and traveling the world and staying in good ol' mysterious Beacon Hills and bringing the whole pack to France for the first time. She saw Lydia and Stiles _finally_ together. She saw her father, old but still with a caring look on his face, on a bed, as Allison was on one side, smiling at him, and Scott on the other, taking his father-in-law's pain away. _Father-in-law._ She saw herself alive and well and surrounded by the people she loves and who love her just as much as she does.

With that, Allison took all of her remaining strength and tried to show Scott that she's still (and will always be) there.

Startled by the firm, cold pressure that seemed to squeeze his hand, Scott looked around.

“Allison?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is also on [tumblr](http://reynabeth.tumblr.com/post/86008926631/sad-beautiful-tragic). :)


End file.
